


Stop interrupting my thought proc-

by ChibiArthur



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aggressive animal, Angst, Character Death, Gore, Hank Big, M/M, Memory Alteration, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Questionable Toilet Clothing, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2019-11-18 14:59:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18122630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiArthur/pseuds/ChibiArthur
Summary: A year after the revolution an unusual case lands on Hank and Connor's desks. The evidence doesn't match up, the suspects all turn out to be innocent but the bodies keep piling up. It might be the most difficult investigation yet.





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! It's my first proper DBH fanfic and I'm very excited to share it with you!  
> Warning: this story will get very dark so please mind the tags and protect yourself.
> 
> Beta'd by the fantastic [@blackeyedblonde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackeyedblonde/pseuds/blackeyedblonde) ♥

Connor was just leaving the break room with a coffee cup in hand. His eyes unerringly found Hank, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed and chin tipped towards his chest. Connor couldn't help but smile.

He made his way over to the napping Lieutenant. Connor knew he should probably wake him up before Captain Fowler or Gavin noticed but instead of that he sat on Hank's desk. He set the coffee cup gently next to Hank's monitor. Crossing his legs at the ankles, Connor leaned back a little on his hands and looked at Hank.

The Lieutenant's face was relaxed like it never quite was when he was awake. His wrinkles were a bit more pronounced too but there was something charming about them. His lips were slightly parted, the little gap between his teeth visible. Today Hank pulled his hair into a ponytail but a loose strand fell over his left eye. Connor reached out to tuck the wisp of hair behind Hank's ear but he froze halfway through the motion when he realised what he was about to do. He quickly changed the trajectory of his hand to touch Hank's shoulder.

"Lieutenant," Connor shook his shoulder lightly "Lieutenant, wake up"

With a grunt that turned into a yawn Hank woke up from his slumber. He rubbed his face with both of his hands and Connor slipped off of the desk quietly.

"Thanks Con," Hank murmured upon seeing the coffee in front of him. He sent the android a sleepy smile, something he started doing more and more lately.

When Connor thought about it, Hank's health and attitude vastly improved over the year they worked together. He started with the small things, like going on walks with Sumo and letting Connor sneak a salad or two into his diet. Then he drank a couple less glasses of whiskey during the day. After two months he stopped smoking altogether - it was an extraordinary show of his strong will, he just decided to stop one day and threw away all of the cigarettes and lighters he owned. Connor was very impressed. For a week after this though, Hank drank a bit more but not as much as he used to.

After half a year of this Hank made the decision to go to therapy. _It's 3 years overdue,_ he said while informing Connor of this development. In a burst of pride the android hugged Hank, making the older man flustered. He pulled back as quickly as he flung himself at Hank, masking his own embarrassment with a big smile and a few words about how proud he was. Things between Hank and Connor slowly began to change from this moment on.

Their relationship improved, Connor's social programme declaring them "best friends" a few days after the hug incident. They started spending more time together outside of work, their teamwork reached new heights of efficiency. Hank learned a whole lot of things about androids (going even as far as helping Connor fix himself after one of the perps dislocated both of the android's shoulders, somehow) and Connor gained extensive knowledge of humans, which helped him navigate the world better and deal with all of the things deviancy made him feel.

“Connor!”

The sudden shout startled the android. He forcefully pulled himself from his thoughts and focused on Hank. The Lieutenant was smirking.

“Did you listen to the word I said?”

“I- of course Lieutenant,” By the way Hank’s eyes crinkled Connor knew he didn’t believe him.

“Fuck, a fancy prototype just got lost in his thoughts. This whole deviancy business really messed with you up there,” With a laugh the Lieutenant reached out and ruffled Connor’s hair. The android fussed, trying to smooth down his hair which only caused Hank to laugh harder. The sound made something like a spark travel through Connor’s circuitry and he found his cooling units having to work double time to alleviate all the ‘system overheating’ errors crowding his visual interface.

“Please, stop it Lieutenant,” His hair refused to go back to their impeccable state but he was not pouting, definitely not.

Hank decided to be merciful and didn’t say anything else. He just threw on his jacket, took the coffee Connor brought in one hand and motioned to the android to follow him with the other. Connor gave up on trying to tame his hair and trailed after his partner.

“So, as I was saying,” Hank began with a smirk, drawing an irritated huff from Connor, “I had this idea while I was sleeping. We should go back to that restaurant the vic frequented and question the waitress again. I think we were too soft on her,”

“She did seem suspicious. Sorry Lieutenant, I should’ve noticed it right away and acted accordingly,”

Hank just waved his hand in a ‘don’t worry about it’ gesture while taking the first sip of his coffee. He squinted suspiciously at the cup afterwards.

“Hey, how come you make the coffee taste exactly the way I make it, anyway?”

“Ah! I believe it’s another case of ‘weird android bullshit’, Lieutenant,”

“What, did you lick my coffee cup when you came over that one time or something?” Connor’s LED spun an anxious yellow but before he could say something Hank spoke again, “Never mind, I don’t want to know,”

Connor promptly shut his mouth and temporarily put the blushing software in quarantine to prevent it from activating. He wanted to delete it the nanosecond he found out it exists (which was 12 days, 9 hours, 23 minutes and 52 seconds ago when Hank praised him for a particularly well-made salad) but… there was something in Hank’s eyes when he saw him blush. Something that made Connor’s pump regulator stutter and his breathing simulation stop for 47 seconds.

Connor shook his head before he could get lost in those thoughts again, turning back to Hank.

“What’s going to be our next step?”

“I dunno, some plastic asshole woke me up,” Hank playfully shoved the android with his shoulder to take the sting out of his words (not that there was any) and opened the door on the driver’s side of his car. Connor scrambled to get into the passenger's side after getting rid of a few errors. He should really use the next time he went in stasis to optimise his software so it wouldn’t malfunction every time Hank touched him.

 

***

The ride to the restaurant was smooth, traffic not bad for Detroit at this time of day. The second they stepped through the threshold and the waitress caught sight of them she bolted through the employees only door out back. Connor tore off right after her, pushing past disgruntled patrons and waiters alike without even a word of apology.

"Why do they always run?" Hank let out a long-suffering sigh and jogged his way back through the front door, hoping to cut off the suspect from the other side.

Turns out he needn't have bothered because Connor already had the woman cuffed when he caught up to them.

"Miss De Santa, you're going to come with us to the station for questioning in regards to the murder of Trevor Philips," the android said evenly, not fazed in the least by the waitress' thrashing and struggling against his hold.

"No! I didn't do anything! Let me go!" she shrieked for naught as Hank and Connor led her to the car and drove back to the precinct.

The ride back was uneventful, right up to the point when they had to stop at a red light and Miss De Santa decided it would be a great idea to try and headbutt the window she was closest to. The window rattled ominously but held fast. The woman didn't attempt to try again, likely deterred by the fact that she would have to seriously injure herself in order to smash the glass. There was already a bruise forming on her forehead.

Soon enough they were in the interrogation room. Miss De Santa denied having anything to do with the murder for at least an hour but when Connor brought up all the contradictions in her two statements she crumbled like a house of cards.

"He deserved it! That...that monster was beating up his wife! I saw it! He was bringing her to the restaurant regularly, acting like the perfect husband, but I saw it! The poorly concealed bruises on her arms and neck, the fear in her eyes! I poisoned the bastard, so she could have a chance at a normal life. I don't regret anything. I would do it all over again," Her mouth was pulled back in an ugly sneer, her body coiled and ready to fight despite being cuffed to the table.

Connor and Hank wordlessly left the interrogation room (they've started doing joint interrogations only two months ago) and sighed in unison once the door whooshed shut.

"I swear to God, this was the longest interrogation in history. Don't," Hank pointed at the android before he even opened his mouth. Connor raised his eyebrow, "I know you're about to spew some bullshit, listing the longest interrogations with their times right down to a single millisecond. So just. Don't."

"Are you really not the slightest bit interested in that?"

"Hell no. Anyways, we deserve a vacation,"

"Vacation, Lieutenant? What's that?"

"You- you know what vacation means, you had-" Hank cut himself off when he noticed a smile growing on the android's face, "Oh ha-fucking-ha. You think you're funny, asshole?"

Despite his words, there was a matching smirk tugging at Hank's lips. Connor spent more processing power than usual to analyse how the older man's face changes when he's smiling and so he didn't notice an arm winding itself around his neck until it was too late. Hank pulled the android into a pseudo choke hold and noogied the hell out of him.

"Wha- Lieutenant! Cease this at once!"

Hank just laughed and started walking out of the building, never releasing his hold on the android. Connor could easily free himself if he wanted to but he let himself be dragged out, putting only a token protest at being manhandled. Besides, he'd have to injure Hank in order to break the hold the older man had on him.

The task "keep Hank safe and unharmed" blinked insistently at him the second he thought about Hank injured in any way.

Hank let Connor go only when the android was bundled up in his car. He started the engine, driving away from the precinct at a speed a little higher than usual. Connor frowned at this. He wondered why-

Suddenly, it all made sense.

"Lieutenant! The report!"

"Aw, crap." Hank at least had the decency to look chastised. He didn't turn the car around though.

"We should go back and submit the report. Captain Fowler isn't going to be pleased." Connor's LED spun an alarmed yellow. "And we left Ms De Santa cuffed to the table!"

"Calm the hell down, someone will find her."

"Hank!"

 

***

Connor was still sulking by the time they reached Hank’s house 30 minutes later. He petulantly trailed after the Lieutenant, sitting on the couch with a huff that only managed to draw a chuckle and an affectionate eye roll from Hank. Connor stayed like that, brightening up a little when Sumo trotted over to him and put his massive head on his lap, silently demanding pets, which the android happily delivered.

Suddenly, Connor’s world went pitch black. He startled, tearing the thing that was unceremoniously dropped on his head off. He should’ve been able to see it coming but he tended to let his guard drop around Hank and Sumo.

Connor was very confused when he saw Hank’s old shorts and a wifebeater in his hands.

"What’s that?" he asked, turning his head to look at Hank who stood behind the couch.

"Clothes."

"I’m already wearing clothes, Lieutenant."

"Yeah, but they’re not fit for a game of basketball. And what did I say about calling me by my rank in my house, huh?"

"That I shouldn’t do that," Connor said automatically before addressing Hank’s first sentence. "Basketball?"

"Yup." Hank ruffled the android’s hair, messing it up even more than earlier at the station. Connor didn’t even attempt to smooth it out this time. "Come on, get changed and meet me out back."

With those words, the Lieutenant was out the back door, whistling for Sumo to follow. The big dog bounded happily after his owner, tail wagging behind him and smacking walls on both sides of the narrow corridor. Ever since Connor helped Hank come up with a healthier diet and exercise regimen for Sumo, the dog became more energetic. It made a warm smile bloom on the android’s face.

Connor went to the bathroom and changed inhumanly fast, leaving his suit neatly folded on the closed toilet lid. He made his way through the back door, curious about the basketball game Hank proposed. They never did that. Connor had to admit that he was excited about this.

The first thing he noticed was the noise of something hitting concrete. Letting his gaze follow the sound Connor saw a basketball being bounced off of the ground in Hank's backyard. It was bounced by large hands, slightly cupped and attached to a pair of muscular arms. The arms, like the rest of Hank, had a layer of fat that made the muscles less pronounced and gave the Lieutenant cuddly vibe but didn't mask the strength lurking beneath, coiled and waiting for the opportunity to strike. Connor watched those muscles move, letting his eyes linger, trailing them higher and-

"Oi, Connor, catch!" It was the only warning before a ball smacked him in the chest. His arms came up to hold the offending spherical object on instinct.

Connor, holding a basketball in his hands for the first time, squeezed it a bit to estimate what kind of pressure would be acceptable so as not to destroy the ball. He bounced it against concrete, miscalculating horribly - the ball hit him in the face on its way up.

"Holy shit," Hank guffawed. "Con, you okay?"

Connor had a mildly inconvenienced look on his face. "I'm fine, Hank." He bent down to pick up the ball and noticed the borrowed wifebeater sliding slightly up towards his thirium pump. He heard Hank cough. It probably wasn't related.

After he retrieved the ball and bounced it a few times, Connor was ready to play.

"Okay Hank," Connor announced as he was lightly bouncing the ball, "we can sta-" He didn't manage to finish his sentence when Hank, in an incredible show of skill, swiped the ball from Connor between bounces and made his way to the net. Connor could only watch in astonishment as Hank threw the ball in a perfect arc and scored.

"Ya better close your mouth Con, or flies are gonna get in," Hank laughed at the android's expense, enjoying his victory. "Come on, give me a challenge." He picked up the ball and barely bounced it once when Connor swooped in.

Connor, learning from Hank’s previous move, took the ball from the Lieutenant and went for a slam dunk. He sent a smirk Hank’s way, absently noting his elevated heart rate despite not having moved an inch and just observing him. The android picked up the ball, bending a little more than necessary just to see another spike in Hank’s pulse, a theory forming in his mind. It was bold of Connor to assume so but did Hank, maybe, perhaps, feel attraction towards him? He intended to put his theory to the test during this friendly match.

Connor strolled over to Hank, stopping a breath away from the older man, the only thing separating them being the basketball in his hands. “Well then, Lieutenant,” the shit-eating grin on his face and the use of his title made Hank’s eyes narrow dangerously, “what was it you were saying about a challenge?”

Hank positively growled, the sound sending a shiver through Connor’s biocomponents.

The next 30 minutes or so (Connor found better use for his processor than to keep track of time) were spent dribbling across the concrete backyard. Hank turned out to be more than a decent player and as soon as they were done Connor was going to grill him on it. Currently, Hank had him cornered, arms outstretched and trying to reach around Connor who was standing with his back to the human, bouncing the ball with one hand and the other in a similar position to Hank’s – guarding the ball from his ‘opponent’. They were at a stalemate, none willing to break it. Connor calculated the odds and no matter which path he took in his preconstructions, there was less than a 20% chance of him managing to avoid Hank’s swipe for the ball. Unless…

Connor took a tiny step back, bringing his back closer to Hank’s chest. Maintaining his defensive position, the android bent his knees a bit more, his butt brushing against the front of Hank’s shorts. The plan backfired horribly as Connor’s proximity sensors registered how…well-endowed the Lieutenant really was. His arm bouncing the ball as well as his left leg glitched and he made an ill-advised turn. It was no surprise that Hank jumped at the chance and easily stole the ball from Connor. He tried to salvage the situation somehow and chased after the older man but an insistent message kept obscuring his HUD.

 

 

ç̶̢͖̖̠͈̰̰̲͙̠̗ͩ͒͌̓̈̎ͧͮ̃͌ͦ̊̽̆͆̓̚͡o̊ͣͩͧͭ̽͌̒̅͊͊͟͠҉̗͍̬͈͎̺̹͓̪͚̞̖̙͔̰̭̩ṁ̸͆̒̀ͦ̑̌̆͋͏̭̫̠̲̞͕̱̖̻͚͍͖̻̪̮̼̭̦͝ę͂̏́̿̊̊̃̿̍͛̂͢͏̡̘̖͔̹͈ ̸̙̞͚̣̭̰͂ͦͪ͂ͣ͠͡ȟ̴̢̟̪̙̣͈͇̻͔͖̙̯̤̳̤̝̩̮ͬ̃̆͐̉ͩo͌̔ͦͯ̽̅ͭ̚҉̴̖̺̪͈̳̰̭̱̠͓̲͞m̸̢͙̦̲̺̩̹̖̗͕͔̖̃ͫ̎͐͂ͯͫ͝͞ͅe̷̦̪̱̼͎͉͚͈̖̠̯̤͔͔͇̼̞̝ͥͧ̊̉ͩͫ́͑͂͑̓ͧ̓̈͒̓ͤ͘͜,ͮ̊̔ͤ̑͗҉̥͖̤͓̫͝ ͮͩ̈̇ͣ̍̄̄̐̒̾̓̈ͪͫ̄ͫ̌͏͕̭̲̱͚̠͙̝̮̰̖̤̤̭̺̗͙̙̕͜Ç̸̖̹̬̻̘̲̭͓̳̳̝̼̟̖̣͚̩̦͌̎ͯ̐̏͐̅ͣ͝o̦̗̦̗̗̬ͧ̾̃̓̔́̔ͪ̿̐̎͑̆͛̆ͣ̓͘n̴̶͇̤̼͓̗͇̫ͣͩ̌̄͊̑͗̾̎͊̏ͥ̍͒ͦͫ̚͡ͅṅ̷̸̵̨͙̺̼̭̞͙̜̙̯ͮ̂̈́͛̅ͦ̔ͮ͒ͫ̐ͧ̑̿ͥ͛͆̃õ̵̵̤̻̟̪͚͇͎͕̼̬̗̩̘̠͇̟̽ͯ̃̔̑͋̆̈̓͊̾̓ͣ͌̓̑͘ͅr̒ͩ͐̓҉̸̮̰̗͚̻̘̩̜̜̞̗̩̣̤͎͞ͅ

 

Connor tripped over his own two legs, almost braining himself on the back wall of the house, accompanied by a rattle of the net as the ball went in, scoring another point for Hank.

“Connor?” The concern in Hank’s voice was clear.

“I’m fine. Just a glitch.”

Hank kept looking at him suspiciously but said nothing else. Instead, he walked up to the android and wrapped an arm around his back.

“Let’s get you inside, you should sit down for a while.”

“It’s really not-" he tried to protest but Hank would hear none of it. Connor focused on the arm wrapped around him firmly instead. It was warm, silver hair matted down with sweat. He leaned into Hank a bit. Based on the data he gathered during all this time with the Lieutenant, his calculations told him that if his legs were to stop functioning Hank would have little to no problem supporting his full weight or even carrying him. Connor barely resisted turning off the connection to his legs on purpose.

All too soon they reached the living room and Hank helped Connor sit on the sofa, ignoring his indignant squawk of, “I can do it on my own, Hank!”

“Now, you stay here,” he pointed a finger at Connor, “and I’m gonna bring you your blood smoothie.”

“Hank, really, it was just a simple glitch! I’ve since optimised my systems and…” Connor started to rise from the couch but a sharp whistle and a simple gesture from Hank caused Sumo to crawl on the android’s lap, successfully immobilising him. Accepting his fate with a groan, Connor scratched the massive dog behind his ears.

“Good boy.”

Connor knew, objectively, that the words and the following smile were directed at Sumo but he still felt warm inside regardless. He watched Hank disappear into the kitchen with a look of total adoration on his face. He was really glad he got to know the Lieutenant. If it weren’t for him, he wouldn’t have deviated, wouldn’t get to experience all those wonderful emotions and sensations. Wouldn’t be able to feel Hank’s warmth, the way his arms wrapped around him in a hug so many months ago, the shiver that Hank’s fingers sent down his spine whenever they ruffled Connor’s hair. It was…he was…

 

 

C̶̳̺̼̱̙̱̙̯͍̥͊̓̾͌̆ͦ̏͋̎̆ͩ̃̈ͦ͜oͣ̿̇̊̏̎̓ͧ̐ͭ̊̎͋̈́͌̈́ͫ͢͏͏͙͍͔͖̣̱̙͎͓͎̼̗̯͖͙͠ǹ̸̟͎̖͖̙̭̘͖̙̟̝̹̙̱̬̩͚̠̯̀̇̓̇ͧ̓̎̽͗̎̔̓̔̽͝͞n̹̙̙̮̯̩̲͎̣̼̱̜ͧͯ̓̓ͣ͢o̮̝͈̱͖̳̹̫͓ͦ̄͛̈͗̈͗̓̚͝rͤ̒̄̋͛̓̆ͩ̐͊͂͊͗̅҉̵̴̢̣͈̫̘̻̖̼̫̟̩͙͎̦̙͍̤̞͞ͅ

 

Connor flinched hard when the message blocked his vision again. He closed his eyes, the longer he looked at it the more dizzy it made him. What the hell was it? He couldn’t trace the message, it was way too corrupted to do that. Focusing on it too much caused unpleasant pulsing in his head. He groaned, tilting his head against the back of the couch and covering his face with an arm.

Something warm and wet pressed into his exposed neck and Connor realised with a start that Sumo licked him.

“Ugh, gross, Sumo.” Hank’s voice. “Stop slobbering all over Con or he’s gonna short circuit,”

Connor tentatively cracked open his eyes and was relieved to notice that the message was gone. “I’m way more resilient than that.” He sat as straight as he could with an 82 kilos of dog on his lap and a too slowly receding headache. He thanked Hank for the glass of refrigerated thirium and pressed it to his cheek. Hank frowned and briefly placed a hand on the android’s forehead.

“You’re burning up. Did you overheat back there? Or is it a weird robot flu?” Connor had to focus a bit more than usual to answer this question, his thoughts drifting constantly to how the back of Hank’s hand felt against his skin.

“We were quite busy and I…delayed stasis for longer than I should.”

“You mean you fuckin’ overworked yourself like fuckin’ always,” Hank said, flicking his forehead. “I thought I made myself clear last time. Stop doing that shit or I swear I’ll call Fowler and make him put you on leave for a month.”

“You’d willingly subject yourself to working with Reed for the time I’m not at the station?”

Without hesitation Hank confirmed. “If it means you’d finally take a break and take care of yourself like you should then you bet your ass I would do that.”

Connor’s pump regulator and lungs malfunctioned briefly. Hank was worried about him. Hank _cared_ about him enough to work with the person he hated the most so that Connor could rest. Connor looked up at Hank with a stunned look on his face, his lips slightly parted. His thoughts were filled with _HankHankHank_ and he could’ve kicked himself when he finally, _finally_ realised what it was that he felt for the human all this time. He was in l-

The sudden, angry buzzing in his head cut all of his thought processes short. Connor doubled over, clutching his aching head in one palm, almost dropping the glass of thirium if it weren’t for Hank steadying his hold on it.

 

 

c̸̞͍̰̻̤̄̀ͣ̏͒ͣͪ̆ͪ̐͑̔͒ơ̦̤̗̥̟̝͚̬̠̮͖̩͖̤̻̰̺̋̑̓̌͘m̶̂́̈̅ͥͦ̔̈̒ͯ̍҉̱͙̫͈͔͎̯͚͚̥̟̹̣̰̼̱ͅę̵̛͕̟̝̻̩̪̩̘̮̤̖͔͇ͫ̑ͧ̔ͨ͆̚ ̵̬̞͕͔̱͙̦̻̔ͯͥͭ̈́ͣ͆͋̕ͅţ̸̢̩͉͚̲ͩ͌ͨͬ̂ͩ̒̓ͫ͗͝o͂̈́̋͑̂̽̍͊҉̷̹͇͙̘͎͕̻͕̻͘ͅ ̈̎̾̽̾́̆ͧ̚͏̴̨͈̥͎̲̰̣̥̺̬̪͙̯m̶̷̨̅̐͋̏ͮ͊͑͗ͤͥͤ̂̂͆́ͨ̋ͫ͠҉̳̱̯͉̲͓ė̴̷̢̤̮̮̹̙̳̜̠͇͓̳̞̣͚̣͖͈̭̜ͭ͋̿̽̀̌ͦ̈́ͣͨ͂̽́̅̚

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the fluff because it's only gonna get worse :)


	2. Day 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive thanks to [@blackeyedblonde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackeyedblonde/pseuds/blackeyedblonde) who beta'd this chapter too!

Connor opened his eyes. He was in his apartment, lying down in bed. His internal clock told him it was past noon already but he only snuggled further into the nest of blankets and pillows.

Yesterday, after that third corrupted message clouded his vision, Connor had to soft reboot. Understandably, it freaked Hank out. The Lieutenant was ready to call the trusted technician they met on one of the cases but Connor managed to convince him not to.

Hank took good care of him. He drove him home, ensured he was comfortable and put a bottle of thirium on the nightstand, just to be safe. It was with great reluctance that he went back home, unwilling to leave the android alone. He's such a good friend.

Connor couldn't help but sigh dreamily and squeeze his fish plushie closer to himself. He wanted Hank to be more than just a friend.

There it was again, that buzzing in his head. It seemed to appear whenever he was thinking about Hank (which, admittedly, was very often). He scowled into the pillows.

He probably should go to a technician but...he was afraid. Trust didn't come easy to him, especially when it came to people who knew how the androids worked. Yes, there was this one tech he and Hank had met a few months ago that helped them a few times, however Connor still had that deep-rooted fear, a phobia really. He didn't want to go alone, yet; he also didn't want to rope Hank into this more than he had to.

With a huff he got off the bed. He placed Dewey reverently in the middle of the nest of blankets and went about changing his clothes. He pulled on dress pants over his boxers and some simple black socks but hesitated before taking off his oversized sleep shirt.

The very first time he slept over at Hank's he neglected to bring any sleepwear so he borrowed this particular shirt. He was surprised at how comfortable it was and opted to buy more oversized tops for lounge wear. As soon as he changed into Hank's shirt that day he resolutely declared that Hank is never getting it back. The Lieutenant sputtered and blushed, mumbling something about "couple-y shit" but Connor was far too captivated by the material to pay attention to human hangups. He couldn't stop trailing his fingers across the shirt or bunching it up in his fists, revealing the pale skin of his thighs. Hank excused himself to his bedroom rather quickly, he didn't even finish watching the movie with Connor, just told him to watch the rest on his own.

Connor wished he scanned his vitals then. He was too absorbed in the newness of everything and now he wasn't sure whether Hank left because he felt self-conscious or disgusted.

The android decided to leave the shirt on, feeling like dressing smart casual today. He put on black sneakers with silver studs on the sides and left the house.

It might have been past noon but Connor still intended to go to work. Hank said he'd put in word with Fowler and get him a day off but Connor didn't really know what to do with himself if he wasn't working. Hank reluctantly agreed to take the afternoon shift instead.

As he was locking the front door, Connor remembered he was only wearing a short-sleeved shirt. He didn't get cold, not really, but he still decided to backtrack and snag a light coat from his coat rack. It was a really nice coat, charcoal gray with black buttons. Slightly feminine cut but everything is unisex if you don't care and Connor certainly didn't. It looked nice, he liked it and that's all that should matter.

***

Hank and Connor were at the precinct for no longer than an hour when they got called in. A dead body was found in a rundown block of flats near the old industrial district.

"Looks like an unlucky accident."

Hank curiously peered into the bathtub where a woman's body lay. The bathtub was filled and a hairdryer was sitting at the bottom. An open-shut case, or so it seemed.

"Too bad I don't believe in accidents."

Connor nodded in agreement. The bathroom was a mess, as if there was a fight. The mirror was broken, various bottles and knicknacks overturned, a ton of fingerprints so densely packed and stacked on top of each other that it was impossible to analyse them. No blood, or even thirium, to link anyone to the crime scene though.

"See anything, Con?"

"I see plenty, though nothing that would help in the investigation, Lieutenant."

Hank muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘smartass’ and left the bathroom to look for evidence elsewhere in the flat. Connor lingered near the body in the immediate crime scene for a bit longer but he didn’t manage to find anything that would point to it being a murder instead of an accident. There were enough clues to make something spark inside of Connor, something that might be a gut feeling in humans, though nothing concrete. And it was driving the android up a wall.

“Alright Con,” Hank said, coming back from whichever part of the flat he was in, “let’s get out of here and question the neighbours and family members. God knows we won’t find any evidence in here.”

Grateful for the distraction, Connor almost skipped after Hank out of the apartment. Together they went to knock on the closest neighbour’s door. They didn’t have to wait long for an older woman to open and usher them inside.

“You see,” the woman began once they sat down in her living room, “that woman, Lange, was such a...whore.” She whispered the last word, looking around frantically, as if someone might hear her. “As soon as Robert, her husband, left for some work-related meeting in another city for a few days, she got Miss Rushman to babysit her kids and went a couple floors up to party with those youngsters.”

“Ma’am, excuse me but going to unwind for a few hours isn’t the same as being, ah, sexually promiscuous.” Hank toned down on the crude language when addressing the older lady. She glared at him and the Lieutenant tried to make himself look smaller. It was highly entertaining and if Connor hadn’t disabled the action in time he would’ve surely laughed out loud, directing the lady’s wrath toward himself.

"I may be old but I'm not stupid! You youngsters don't know anything about life!"

Hank mouthed 'youngsters', amused but still wary of the older lady. She had quite a tight grip on one of the little couch cushions and he didn't want to find out whether her aim was good or not.

"Mrs. Talbot, could you please tell us who Mrs. Lange was seeing?" Connor interjected before Hank could say anything more to set off Mrs. Talbot.

"Everyone," the old lady scoffed, "but her latest lover was this young man with a fancy car."

"Do you know his name?"

"No. But the youngsters upstairs might."

***

That's how Hank and Connor found themselves a couple floors up, trying to knock on the door loud enough to be heard over the music blasting from inside.

"It's not even 3pm and they're already partying?" It's been a year already and some people's actions still confused Connor.

"Maybe they never stopped."

Connor's LED whirled yellow but Hank didn't wait for him to ask his question. He reached out and turned the knob. The door was open.

A wall of sound assaulted their ears as soon as they entered. Connor toned down his hearing sensitivity, Hank only had his palms to drown out the sound with. Somewhere underneath the 2020s techno music Connor could hear two people arguing.

Sure enough, as Hank and Connor crossed the hall and stepped into the living room, they saw a man and a woman. He ( _Chris Martín, 29, cashier, no past offenses_ ) was sitting on a couch, elbows propped on his knees and his head cradled in his hands. Meanwhile she ( _Ashley Kamor, 23, college dropout, red ice possession_ ) was standing over him, shouting something. Her words were indecipherable, the loud music drowning out barely legible slurring only someone simultaneously high and intoxicated could call 'speaking'.

The couple didn't see them until Hank walked up to the stereo and turned down the volume.

"Hey! This is private property!" shouted Chris, the intimidating tone falling a little short when he swayed and almost fell off the couch. Meanwhile, Ashley was silent and even looked like she might be sick or lose consciousness.

"We're with the DPD," Hank said, flashing his badge. "Do you happen to know a Mrs. Lange?"

"Oh yeah! Lizzy, she knows how to party. Why?" It would be hard to understand Chris with all the slurring but Connor had a lot of practice talking on the phone with a drunk Hank. It helped that he wasn't as intoxicated as Ashley.

"Do you know the name of her boyfriend?"

"Which one?"

"The one with a fancy car," Hank said at the same time Connor demanded "All of them". The Lieutenant shot him a scathing look as Ms Kamor, suddenly very chatty, started rattling off names and divulging details about most of them.

***

"Fuck, checking all of those Johns out will take us a week!" Hank griped as they were driving back to the precinct to report to Captain Fowler.

Connor wanted to answer, he really did, but he got distracted by the mouth-watering sight of Hank driving with only one hand on the wheel, the other carding through his hair in an effort to get it out of his face. Connor wondered how it would feel like if he deactivated his synthskin and ran his fingers through Hank's hair, touched his beard, kissed him...

_Kissed him?_

Yeah. Kissed him. Connor wanted it like nothing else.

He grimaced when the angry buzzing in his head came back with a vengeance.

"See, you're not thrilled about it either!" The Lieutenant misinterpreted his facial expression but Connor didn't correct him.

"I...might've underestimated how many lovers Mrs. Lange had. And how much information the neighbours would be willing to provide."

Hank grumbled under his breath, obviously unhappy about the amount of overtime they'd have to clock in. The android was content just looking out the window.

***

Connor could see that Hank was quickly running out of patience. Every person they crossed off their – admittedly long – potential suspect list the furrow in his brow got deeper. It’s no wonder, really. They had been driving around town, questioning Mrs. Lange’s lovers, but they didn’t learn anything. Connor decided to call it quits when the clock struck 10pm and Hank’s fingers twitched one too many times. He didn’t want the Lieutenant to punch anyone and get in trouble, no matter how satisfying it would be to watch those assholes get knocked out.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Wulf, we’ll contact you in case any further statements are needed." Connor discreetly steered Hank towards the front door. He was actually relieved their work for today was over.

"No problem at all. Have a nice evening, gentlemen."

Just as Connor was crossing the threshold, Mr. Wulf grabbed his forearm. He managed to catch the android off-guard and whirled him around, pulling closer to himself.

"You know, you’re pretty cute. You can call me anytime, sweetheart."

Connor stifled the urge to gag. Instead, he smiled faux-pleasantly and brushed off the man’s hand from his arm. "That’s nice but you’re not my type." With those words he left Mr. Wulf gaping at the door and followed after an impishly grinning Hank.

"Holy shit, Con," Hank wheezed after they got in the car, "did you see his face? He was so unprepared. Damn, I love when self-absorbed jerks like him get knocked down a peg."

The car let out a low rumble when Hank started it up. They’ve been driving for a minute or two when the Lieutenant spoke again.

"By the way…" The cough that came after this sentence sounded forced and Connor immediately noticed. He straightened up, knowing what Hank was about to say next was going to be either very serious or personal. "What…what is your type, anyway? Asking for a friend."

Connor smiled but didn’t answer for a while. He let Hank squirm a little in his seat and answered only when the older man was opening his mouth, probably about to retract his question and apologise.

"Truth is, Hank," Connor leaned a bit to his left. For the maximum effect he modulated his voice to sound like will.i.am’s. "I like them big, I like them chunky."

Hank roared with laughter, throwing his head back. Connor gripped the steering wheel with his right hand to ensure the car wouldn’t veer into the other lane. He kept his hand there even when Hank calmed down and started paying attention to the road again. He couldn’t help it! Being close to Hank was such a rush, he just wanted to stay in his personal space forever and-

"Mpf!" Wide-eyed, Connor let out a garbled sound when Hank’s massive hand covered almost all of his face and pushed him back into his seat. Through Hank’s spread fingers he could see the man blushing a bit, a quick scan told him his heart rate was elevated. Connor wanted to lick the palm pressed to his face.

"Stop that, I’m tryna drive."

Connor, obviously, wasn’t able to answer. The silence was deafening.

As the Lieutenant was drawing his palm back, Connor caught his wrist in both hands. Hank stubbornly kept his eyes on the road but didn’t try to get away from that grasp. He let the android shift his hand as he pleased, tensing minutely when Connor nuzzled his cheek into his palm.

"Con." The word sounded like a warning. There was something dark in Hank’s voice, something primal. It made Connor shiver.

"Hank." An almost whisper, slightly breathy as if Connor couldn’t get enough air in his artificial lungs.

Over the year they grew closer together but Connor felt there was always something missing from their relationship. He had his suspicions about what it may be but found out for sure only a few days ago. He wanted to be even closer. He wanted to be more than just best friends. He wanted his social programme to declare them "lovers". He _wanted_.

"Don’t." Voice strained, Hank kept driving until he reached Connor’s apartment building. He never removed his right hand from the android’s grasp.

Connor was conflicted. Hank was giving mixed signals – his words curt but his touch warm and gentle. He was preparing himself for rejection but also hoped, hoped so deeply that the Lieutenant felt the same. He forgot to breathe when the car came to a stop, nervous beyond belief.

But when Hank finally looked at him, there was no disgust nor hate visible on his face.

( _Pupil dilation 30% more than normal, heart rate 132bpm, body heat elevated_ )

_Oh_.

Connor couldn’t tell who moved first, even with all that fancy programming. Hank’s left arm shot towards Connor’s waist like a homing rocket while Connor’s right hand gripped Hank’s hair at the base of his skull. Hank’s right palm cradled Connor’s cheek gently, cupped by Connor’s left skinless hand.

The kiss was desperate. They both poured all of their everything into it, channelling a year’s worth of emotions.

It was awkward with their seatbelts on but Connor soon unclasped both of them, the belts retracting into the car seats with a harsh click. The android didn’t waste any time pushing the driver’s seat as far back as it would go and climbing onto Hank’s lap. His ass pushed the horn but neither of the men seemed concerned with the resounding honk that carried over the neighbourhood. To avoid making more noise Connor simply clung tightly to Hank’s front, pressing their arousals together. Hank groaned low in his throat and it took a Herculean effort on Connor’s part not to come undone just by hearing it.

The angry buzzing in Connor’s head struck with even more force than yesterday but he buried it with all the sensory data he kept receiving - the softness of Hank’s lips, the tight grip he had on his waist, the wandering hand on his back. It was all so much. Almost too much but also not enough.

When Connor felt Hank’s tongue swiping at his bottom lip, he gladly opened up for him. They both shivered as their tongues met, the slick glide audible in the confines of the car. Connor slid his palms over Hank’s arms, feeling the muscles move under his fingers as Hank was doing some exploration of his own.

All too soon they had to stop, as one of them actually needed oxygen to survive. A string of saliva connected their lips for a second before breaking off. Connor licked his lips. He wasn’t surprised when he discovered the skin on them retracted during their make out session.

They gently rested their foreheads against each other and just breathed for a moment.

"Hank."

 

0̶̪̲̜͇͉̬̺͙̞̰͓̻͚͙̼̳̪͈͌̔ͧ̈́̀͘͟͠1̷̡̌͆̄̒ͯ͑̆̿ͦͩ̃͊͊̃̎͋ͩ͘͜͏͈̠͔̯̙͙͉̫̥0̧͖͎̩͖̠͉̻̽͗̊͠0̡̡̯͙͔̖͚̬̞ͬ͒̔̏ͭ͆͆̆͛̓͒ͧ̃ͬ̂̆͢1̇̎͛̾́ͬ͐̇̏ͫ̂͆͏̸̢̤̼̗͖̰̱̫1̶̨̛͈̹̪̣̠̘̫̺̰͍̣̱̹͇͔̞̩͒͒͗͑̎ͪ̔ͥͬ̈́͘ͅ1̸̣̼̹̯͔̻̜̜͖̈͐̃̐ͨ͑̊̍̈́̒͞ͅ0ͭ̽ͯ̿͗͏̢̻͓̫̟͓̬͔͉̜̟͖͚̪͙͘ ͊̇͑́͐̽͗̃̓̍̆͐͂̋ͨ́͋͏̸̨̢̺͇̪̬̟̙͎͙̺̠0̧̗͔̮̼̮͌̉̔̃̓ͧ͒ͫ̿ͫ͌̽̌̽̿ͭ̓̕͢1̴͛̾̉̔̋ͦ͒ͬ͋̿͌҉̙̯̖̻͕͖̫̙͚̤̖͍͎͇̕0̰̦͇̝̹̽ͫ͂̆̂͡0͆ͫ̽͊͋̈́̃ͥͬͤ̓͋ͪͤͤͥ̓̆̃͏̨̧͓̝̞̳̻̪͚̘̹̼̬̪̝̰1̉̆͗̂ͦ̽̃̆͊͂̑͗͗̅̚͏̵̲̗̝͔͕̩̱͖1̶̢̠̪̫̺̗͎̙͖͎͎͍̤͙̱̘̝̀̿͛̋͋͋ͥͦ̑̿ͥ͛ͧ̓͋͒̾̚̚͟͞1̶̢̗̺͇̉ͯ̏̉ͨͫ̃ͪ̈́̓̎ͨ͊̈́̿͡1̶̥̤̞̹̫͉̩̪̼̠ͥͯ͑͊ͬͨ̃̂͑̍͋ͯ͞ ̥̠̠̬̖͍͚̭̙̪̤͙͓̦͕͔̳̌̇̋͒͘0̸̸̧̫͉̟͚͙̟̞̺̙̮͙̼̄̃͗̿ͬ̊́̽̋͋͋0̵̧̦̖͖̙̱͋ͧ̑̄͑̊ͧͭ̀̓̔̚1̤̰̦͇̭̠͓̈́̄͑̍͗̎̃̃̂͐̾͋̓͌̆̔̃͂͟͟͡0̡̗̬̪͈̣ͯ̋ͥ̃̕͡͠0̛̳̬̣͙̜͔̭̹͉̺͓̜͎͚̤̑̋ͥ̂͋́ͧ͒̓̄̂͂̅̍ͧ͋̚͝ͅ0̶̨̹̲̞̻͕̔̓͊ͨ̈́ͭ̈ͦͯ̎̌̄̌͠ͅͅ0̭̞͕̾̒͐ͦͩ̂̓̿͢͝1ͤ̋̃̓̊̒͊͑ͥͬ̔ͬͨ͗̒́̋͏̢̺̪̻̦̲̟͔̻̤͚̺̹

 

"I love you."

 

 

0̵̶̨̛̛̰̦͍̻̪͈̼̰̺̿̓̐ͤ̀̂ͦ̎̓́̔ͮ1̛̩̟͚͚̞̦ͣ̃ͭ̔̑͐ͫ̉̔͒͂ͧ͘͢͜ͅ0̷̢́̋ͦ̎̃̇̋ͣͦ͘҉̖̘̤̠͉͔1̸̢̃͂ͩ͒̊ͩ̆ͩ̏ͥͨ̾ͩ̅ͣ͗̚͜͏̼̝͕͕̼̜̩1̵̴̸̫̘̱̰͚̮̲̲̦͖̙͙͎̝̓ͨͦͧ̚͜͡ͅ0̴̶̛̙̬̱̺̟̞̬̝͖̺̙̓̿͒ͮ͋̌̀̋0̢̡͉̭̲̹͇̪̪͇̘͕̞̮̣͖̻͔̄̏͛ͭ̒ͩ̍̅̇̚͡1̬͖̻͎̰̬̓ͬ̄̓ͧͨ͒ͬ̏ͯ͠ ͣ͒ͣͤ̓̊̅͐̔̈́̂̈҉̧̲̙̖͓̣̻̦͙̟̖͇͈̳̹̱̕͜ͅͅ0͔̞͉͙̤̯̪͈͚͎̯̪̯̣͍̘̞̓̾̽͛̓̓ͣ̔̇ͬͤͨ̎̑͌̂̅̈́͆͞͡1̶̪̱͍͎̗͚̞̤̫̜͕̺͙̮ͤͤ̋̆͑͒͂̚͢͡͠0̧̦̞̤͉̬͍̖̦̰͚͈̎ͮͤ̆͛̉͑̍́͛ͨ̚͘͢0̵̋̑ͩͧ͊̅ͭͮ̂͒͟͞͏͚̱͔̝1̱̞̺͇͚͍̈́ͪ̅̇̅ͫͩ͒̃͑̏͌ͦ͌̍̽̀̚͠͝1̝̖̭̖͇̝̮̞̣͈͙͇̪̹̲̮̤̬͆̾̽ͨͭ̾̕͡1̴̧̜̤̟̜͕̱̗̏̃ͯ͂ͯ̇̌̽̎̃͌ͩͣͮ͢͟1̸ͫͦͪͪ̔̍̾̽̓́̌͡҉̩͈̖͍̤͔͇͇͎̣͉̺͔ ̷̵̢̱̼̜͈͍̠̣̲̲̜̣̭͓͔̲̣͈͔̂ͭ͒̈́̃͊̓̈́̓̏̄̍̆̈́̄̿̚ͅ0͖͓̼̜͎̼͉̫͚̮̥͙̺̯̟̽̔͑ͦ̽̇̓̿ͩͬ͜͢1̨̖͓̬̬͎̗̳͍̰̹̐̈́̓̋̈̐ͦ͊̀̈́̒̃͗̒ͣ̓͘ͅ0̸̸̟̖̼̖͎̊͗ͫ̄ͮ͋͢1̶̭̞̝̹̜̦̬̐̈̀̈̌͢͢0̵̻̘̞͂̔͆̾̏͗̀̇̎̾͞1̶̞̩͇̜̄̈́ͫͪ̔ͥ̎̍͗̾́ͪ̌̈́͒͜͞0̡̡̯̪̯̳̗̰ͯ͌͆̏͛ͪ̂̈͒ͥ̅̀̈́̚͘͟1̱͈̗̗̰̮̹̠͖̲̗̙͚̯̗͐ͮ̓̀̒̔̍̃͌͊̾̈͘ ̧̛̘̩̩̲̤̲̳͈͈͚̔͒̓̽ͭͬͣ̓͐̀ͣ̍̈́͘͢͝0͔͎͉̹̖͚̖͙̫̳̮̭̺͚̯͑͑̀̓ͩ̑̎͛̒̆͗̃ͪ̈͌̂̕͟0̻͈̖̬͓̫̟͖̼̠͒́̏ͨ̋̚͢͢ͅ1̄̑̒͋̍͌̒̿̏̑҉̖̤̰̹̞̜̜͘͟0̶̵̶͇̘̮̬̻ͨ̄ͬ͑ͤ͊ͧ̑̔̋ͧ̈ͧ̿́ͣ̈́0̀̿̑҉͓̝̯̦1ͧ̈́̊̅͋̾̈́̄͑̒̆̀ͮ̄̾̿ͥ͌̚҉̸͔̻̟̦͎1̷̵̸̟̼͍̯ͫͭ͑̄̉ͧ̐ͣ̐ͥ͌͗ͦ̆͛́͞1̷̷̦̟̮̬̻͔̜̱͉̳͍̤͇͐͌ͪ̔̽͛ͭ͐̂́̓̀̓̾̎ͨͥ̽͘ͅ ̛͐̽͌̿̋͂ͭͧ͑ͪͨ̃ͥ͛̕͝҉̟̺͉͓̥̭͖̳ͅ0ͭͬͩ̾̋̈́ͩͬ̈͐̿̉̆̾̏͆́̚͏҉̢̙͉͖̤̼̼̪̭͍͈͜1̡͕̙̰͚̹̞̜ͨͤ̂ͭ͠0͍̭͓̜̦͉̲̺̖̃ͦ͌ͧ̿͊ͨ̍́ͥ̔͞͡͠͝1̷̫̣̳̖̱̥͚̯͕̮ͪ͆̊̇͗̅̐͐̍̄̎̏ͪ͒ͤͩ̃͢0͓͔̺ͩ̎̆̅͒̃̑̍̊̋̾͜0̸̨̪͇̪̤͖̮̤̭̹̰̦̣̫͇̦͍̃̑̓̔̃ͮ̇͂̔̾̆̅̍ͦ͌͗͟1̸̵̦̯͇̯̝̘͍̬̰̳̲͕̲̝͉͕̖̀͂̉͛ͩ͆ͥ̌ͫ͂̈͆ͣ̋̒͌͑̚̚0̷̧͓͎̭͎̞͙͇̭͕͎̜̘̘͇̈́ͦͧ̌̑̀̓ͪ͆̈́̌̑̊̂̓̏ͬ͆̄͠͠͡ ̵̨̧̛͇̭̞̙̩̯̰̟̖̹̥̭̜ͭ̿̑͗̇͆͒ͩͮͬ̃̆ͪͮ̚0̴͔̜̝̿̊̍͋͋ͣ͟͠͝ͅ1̥̲̳̣̮͕̗̹̮̹͍̺͚̙͚ͯ́͒̽̄͘͡ͅ0̴͖͎̱͇ͬͣͬͭ͒ͫ͗͑̌̕0̷̖̬̳̫̲͈̭̘̲̤̫̖̬̖̼̳̪̰̐͑̍ͤ͌͘̕͟0̧̢͇͚̗̥̦̭̭̦̉̍̊̐̚͢͠͞1̨̡̻̻̖̜͚͈̥̯̥̘̲͉͓͉̻̳̙̹̹ͩ̌͌͑̓̐̾͋̋͌ͮ̊͆͆ͮ͗̐͊̕͟0̛̩̘̯̣̙̜͔̘ͩͧ͗̎̏̿̓̐ͧ̾̕͜1̷̹͓͙̬͓͔̙̹̯͉͖̩͍͎̰̤͍ͫ͋̈́̽̀̆̓͑̉͐͐̒͒̅̎̎͛͡ͅͅ ̵̙̰̫̦̘͉̙͉̰̞̹̥͎͖̱͆ͥͯ͌̚͘ͅ0̇ͥͨ̋͏̢̲̲̜̗͖̮̰͓̱0̛̠̣̬͔̲̜̭͉͔͉̈͆̑̈̂͛̉̆̕͘1̵̷̵̺̜͉̝̭̖͖̣̰͖̝̪͓̎̋ͨͯ̓̑ͤ͋̚0̵̑̎͋ͩ̈́ͣ̐̈́̒̀ͩ͐̀͗̏ͨ͜҉͇͇̻̲̲͚̻̯̯̟̬͈͙̪0̨̠͍͚̲̺̺̮̩̤̳̱̹̯̫͇͚͇̒́̑̃̄̋ͪ̋ͬ̕͘͡ͅ0ͤ̈́̎̿̌͐̆̐̂̉҉҉͖̦̭̝͚͇͎̦̫̟͉̣0̨̆̑ͨ̋̑ͤ̈̍͌̓͂̍̑̾͊̏̉̒̚͟͏̶͔̤̘̺̳͔̩͕̪̪̪0̮͎̖̩̪͖͈͖̖̦͍̥̗̪̗͇̗̦͗̏̌ͥ̌̋ͯ̋͆̚͘ ̴͈̘̩̮͌ͯ̓͛̊̈́̾̓̚0̶̵̸͓̭͓̲̏̐ͬ̌ͯ͛͝ͅ1̶̧̛̪̰͎̖͚̺̄̃̅ͥ̒ͧͥͦͭ̚͝0̸̻̪̘͙͈̰͍̺͕̲̮͓̰̭͍ͦ͌̊̑͒̂̌̇͒̔̑̕͠0̆ͮ̀ͭ̇̚͘͏̪̯̼̩̱̬̼̹̠1̨̛͓̭̹͉̣͚͌͒̅͗̓́̓͒ͣ̋̂̐̿̄̐ͥ̚̚ͅ1̷͛̌̿̌̐͏̣͇̻͚͎̼̯̠͎̰̫0̴̛̼̲̪̝̮̮̟̹͖͍̟̬̭̫͖̯͇ͣ͋ͦͧ̓͢1̨̼͙̹̼͈̭̗̗̝͚̤͌̋̆͗ͦ̌͠ ̢͖̫̲͉̬͉̳̩̪̹̞̪̳͓͍̪̜̍́̊̉̅̍̊̎͑ͥ̅̾̌͟ͅ0͊̓͋ͦͫ̂ͯͨ̒̄̽ͥͪͤͫ͌͏̺͖̣̪̕1̵͓̞͍̜͖̫̦̙͙ͫͦͪ̑̅̾͌͊͆ͣͮ̉͆̒̚͢͠ͅ0̨͍̳͙̝͈͐ͤͣ͌̃̈̆̽̌͆̏͑͌́̌ͩͨͩͨ0̈́̎ͮ͛҉̴̴̫̣͔̤͎̥̩̝͙͍̖̪̠̭̲͍̗1̢̮̪̼̰̘̩̗̻̱̥̘̲̖͍̜͇͊͑ͭ̉̅̉̑ͬ̉̚̕͜͡0̛͍̖̩̟̙͎̱̖͓̲͗͒͋0̶̶̬̠͙̯̱̹͖̱̼͈͓̋͆͆̏̏͑1̝̳̲̻̯̼̰̤̞̤̈̄ͬͥ̏ͯ̓͗̾̓ͥ͌ͫͬ̎ͪ̏ͫ̌̕͞ͅ ̸̢̼̫̠̖͓̖̱̼̹ͩ̀͋ͯͨ͑̌̇͒͂́̅̚0̶͖̰͍̦͚̳̯̲̞͚̦̼̤͚̼͚̞͐ͯ̾ͦ̂ͧͨ̀͟͞͝͞1ͯ͐ͫ̍͏̧̛͍͙̲̘̤͙͍ͅ0̸̷̛̇̌ͭ̄̓̚̚͟҉̤͇̝͇̠̦̺͚͍͔͎͎͇0̴̨̤̘̟͍̹͈̣̹̗̦̩̙̮͙̩̝̤͙͗ͦ̂̈́́̍͂̚̕͠1̶̾̿ͦ͂̽̅͏̼̺̦̗̭͉̮̥1̷̞̯͙͍̥͈̺̞͈̻̪̉͂ͥͮ͊̕ͅ1̶̦̩̺̭͎̳͉̘̳̥ͣ͗̑ͤ̌ͧ͐͠ͅͅ0̖̰̘̤̭̙͆͊͂̾͋̃̎ͥ̃̽ͫ̄̾ͦ̃͑̽ͭ͋̕͜ ͮͭ̐̂̃̋ͯ̓͑ͧ̄͛̐ͮ̾ͨ̉͡͏̛̬͉͍̗͎̦̮̝̩̯̭̩̫̝͙͎͘͟0̛̣̥̬͔̮̜̀ͨͥ̏͌͛ͥ͑ͥ̓̑̇́ͪͬͮ̕̕1̷̠̞̤͙̱ͫ̌̌ͧ͋0̷̨̨̿͑ͪͧ҉̫͚͓̙̭͚̮̭͚̜̹̟̼͈̤͚̥̠0̴̢̮̹̠̝̹͖̠̭̰̝̖̝̟̟̇̋̾̓̽͂̀ͤ͊ͭ̓ͯ͊0̷̵̸̭̭̱̲͓̪̝̤̖̻͙̺̰̮̭̯ͧ̉͛̈1̊̔͂͆̀ͭ҉͎̜͓͕̜̩̬͍͎͎̖͇͈͚̳͠ͅͅ0̶͇̺̯̬̳͇̹͔͈̙̳̦͚͓̪̙͎̽ͦ͂̂̆ͥ͋̓ͬ1̶͍͓̻̰̙͖̝̦̙̙̣͔ͩ̂̏̃̈ͤͭ͜͞ͅ ̷̣͓̳̙̫͚̠̻̑̓̑̇ͦ̎ͧ̾́͆͑ͨ̓̋́̎̋ͪ̀͘0̸̳̳̪̬̩ͫͧ͑̊̅͋̅̿ͤ̈́̏ͪ͠͞ͅͅͅ0̸̡̖̭͇̰̱̪̊ͫ̌̈́͒̄́̈́̒̔ͥ̄ͯ̚1̆̒̓̅̌̌̔͊ͥ͊̓̚͏̘̰̲͚̫̘̮̝͙͕͞0̶̸̴̲̟̞͓͔̱̫̤͍͎̯̦͕̺̭̦̿̔̅ͬ0̸̻̝͖̟̰̤ͨ̊̅ͦ̋ͥ̾ͣ̔ͪͮͣͭ͌̿ͦ͘͢0̴̧̡̳͉̰̣͔͖̱̺̞ͣ̅̏̐́́͌̊͌̔͞0ͯ͂ͮ͊͛͢͠҉̟͉̲̻̺̦̟̙̩̫͓͉̝͇͙͚͉͉1̻̲̭̳̹̳̭̒ͪ̿ͮͬ̽ͧͪ̐̏́ͧ̄͗ͫͥ̇̄̅͡͠ͅ

 

 

"I love you too, baby."

Their next kiss was languid, chaste almost; if it weren’t for the moan that slipped through Connor’s mouth when Hank delicately bit his lower lip and pulled.

For a while after that, they just stared into each other’s eyes, dopey smiles on both their faces. Connor hugged Hank tightly.

"I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Lieutenant." He didn’t miss how the title made Hank’s heart skip a beat.

"Yeah. See you, darlin’."

Connor climbed out of the car through the driver’s side door. Before he disappeared inside his apartment, he blew a playful kiss Hank’s way, which Hank smiled at and returned with a wave.

Only much later did Connor realise that after that last message the angry buzzing in his head ceased. Somehow, it filled him with dread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn't check it on your own already (I know I keep "binary to text" translator open in another tab whenever I read DBH fanfics) the binary says "NO! YOU'RE MINE!"


	3. Day 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, beta'd by the talented [@blackeyedblonde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackeyedblonde/pseuds/blackeyedblonde) ~ 
> 
> WARNING! This chapter contains major character death, aggressively behaving animal and gore (both android and human). Read at your own discretion.

Connor came out of stasis all giddy and refreshed. He and Hank had _kissed_! He hugged Dewey to his chest and rolled a few times in bed, definitely _not_ squealing happily all the while. His voice modulator just glitched, that’s all.

Instead of getting up right after waking, like he usually does, he decided to stay in bed some more. It wasn’t like he had to do much before leaving for work – he had plenty of time to spare. The buzzing in his head that normally accompanied thinking about Hank wasn’t there so he let his mind wander.

Connor closed his eyes and replayed the memory file from yesterday. His lips tingled as the video played behind his lids, the image of Hank’s beard scratching against his face causing a physical reaction. As the memory-Hank’s hand travelled down memory-Connor’s spine, a shiver wracked through the real-Connor’s body. The hand that was curled around Dewey placed the plushie on one of the pillows, while his other palm glided smoothly down his front. He bit his lower lip.

But as Connor’s fingers skimmed along the waistband of his sleeping pants, he stopped. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath, calming himself. He couldn’t. Or, well, he _could_ but he didn’t _want to._ No, this wasn’t right either. He wanted to. But he wanted Hank to be the one to do this even more. Connor smiled. Now, with their relationship improved even more, this want might actually be fulfilled. He shivered in excitement again. He couldn’t wait for the end of their shift already.

Or was it too soon? Connor worried about it while ridding himself of his sleeping clothes and putting on work-appropriate attire. He decided on something nicer today. For the past five months or so he dressed as casually as he could get away with. This time he fished a blue button-up, black tie, black vest and dark jeans from his closet.

…or maybe he should just dress casually? Behave like always and not worry about anything? Will dressing up make it weird? Does Hank even like when Connor dresses up? Or does it remind the Lieutenant of the times when Connor was just a machine?

Connor sat down on the bed with two vastly different outfits strewn around him, his head in hands. The buzzing might have stopped but he suddenly got something akin to a headache overthinking about what to wear.

In the end he decided to put on the nice shirt but left the first button open and skipped the tie. He also picked jeans from the ‘casual pile’ – a dark pair that was criminally tight, something Hank might appreciate. Maybe. Connor just hoped it won’t end with one of them having a heart attack.

Connor pulled on his leather jacket as an afterthought and left for work in higher spirits than ever before, his mind swimming with thoughts of Hank.

***

But when Connor arrived at the precinct there was no sign of Hank anywhere. It was fine, the Lieutenant was late sometimes. True, days like these occurred less frequently nowadays, but there was no need to panic. Not even when Connor was called in and had to go with Gavin instead of his partner.

Oh, who was he kidding? Connor’s LED was stuck on yellow, sometimes blinking red when his processors got particularly creative with various reasons as to why Hank might be late.

"Stop thinking! Geez, I can hear the cogs in your head turning."

Gavin, charming as always. Connor would probably find that mildly amusing if he wasn’t worried sick. Hank always tells him whenever he’s going to be late or absent. He hadn’t heard a word from him since last night.

What if Hank regretted it? Did he drink himself into a stupor and is still passed out on his kitchen floor? Or maybe he didn’t drink but decided that ghosting Connor was the best idea? Or… maybe he got so disgusted with Connor, he changed jobs or moved overnight?

Connor groaned and bumped the back of his head against the headrest, startling Gavin. The car swerved dangerously but Reed managed to regain control in time. He swore.

"What the fuck, tin can? I’m driving here! Jesus!"

"Sorry, Detective."

"Just. Shut up. Don’t talk, don’t move and don’t even think. It’s bad enough I have to endure your presence."

Connor wanted to make a snide comment about Gavin using big words but he really wasn’t in the mood. He turned to the window with a sigh.

"And don’t sigh either!"

Annoyed, Connor put himself on standby, eager to escape Reed’s verbal abuse.

***

The scene was a nightmare to navigate. There were body parts strewn everywhere, blood on almost every surface, fingerprints upon fingerprints. That, coupled with trying to stop Reed from trampling all over the evidence he couldn’t see, was making Connor experience something resembling exhaustion. He decided he didn’t much care for this feeling.

"Fuck’s sake, you bag of bolts, let me do my job!" Gavin was furious when Connor tugged him away from the crime scene yet again.

"Detective Reed, you almost stepped on what might be crucial evidence if I hadn’t stopped you. Please, don’t contaminate the crime scene."

Gavin’s eyes glinted dangerously. "You saying I don’t know how to do my job? I’ve been doing this before you were even born, stupid plastic fuck!"

Connor grit his teeth and counted backwards from ten. He didn’t know how Tina or Chris dealt with Gavin, they must have been saints in their previous lives. Angels in disguise descended from Heaven. Or something. Connor wanted to know their secrets.

"No Detective, there’s just a lot of evidence material not visible to the human eye, that’s all."

"Oh, I have excellent eyesight, Mr. I’m Better Than Everyone. Now get out of my way."

Gavin tried to make another step but Connor was still holding onto his sleeve. With a frustrated growl, Reed slipped his arms out of his jacket and went to examine the scene, leaving Connor behind. The android could only stare in horror as precious evidence got trampled under Gavin’s heavy boots. A pitiful sound almost left Connor’s lips but he managed to force it back before it could. No reason to make the rat bastard even smugger.

Connor abandoned Reed’s jacket where he stood and went to rescue as much evidence as he could from being stomped on.

***

Gathering the evidence from the crime scene took them the better part of their shift. It was getting dark outside, automated lamps flickering to life. Reed proved surprisingly useful, when he wasn’t ruining the samples that is. Connor estimated the losses to be about 14%. Not a great outcome but acceptable, all things considered. He expected it to be way more if he was being honest with himself.

All that was left was submitting the evidence. Normally Connor would stay longer and examine everything that had been collected more thoroughly but his mind was constantly drifting to Hank. He was worried and distracted, which wasn’t a good combination. So then Connor left the precinct at the exact time that his shift ended, earning a few odd looks from his colleagues.

He took a taxi to Hank’s house, fiddling with his coin nervously. He wondered if it was a good idea to visit the Lieutenant after all. Maybe it would make matters worse?

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, a notification popped up on his HUD, indicating an incoming call from Captain Fowler. Despite the thoughts raging inside his head he picked up the call immediately – he was a detective after all, he couldn’t just ignore his duties in favour of his personal life.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Connor, hate to do this when you’ve already clocked in so much overtime this month but you’re needed on scene. Initial investigation hints at this murder being related to that other case you and Reed worked on today."

"Understood. May I get the address?"

"Corner of Trinity and Joy, not far from where the old Royal Car Wash was." Connor interfaced with the taxi console and put the address in. "Reed’s already on the scene. You’ll work together again, seeing as Anderson still didn’t show up. Good luck." The Captain hung up and Connor ground his teeth in frustration. Gavin was probably trampling all over the evidence again.

***

Connor reluctantly stepped out of the taxi, not eager to spend even more time with Reed than he already did. Ben seemed to notice it right away because he sent him a sympathetic smile as soon as he closed in.

"Hey Connor, busy night, huh?"

"You could say that, Detective Collins."

Ben scowled, though there was also amusement in his eyes. "You can just call me Ben, how many times do I have to tell you that?"

"Sorry Ben," Connor corrected himself quickly. "Guess old habits die hard."

"Don’t even worry about it." Ben waved him off and Connor made his way through the holo-tape.

The first thing he saw was Gavin’s scowl. Ugh.

They didn’t talk this time, not even a stray curse from Reed in his direction; a sign of how tired the detective was. They split up and thoroughly checked the crime scene. It wasn’t as messy as the previous one but Connor already saw the similarities. It was uncanny. After scanning the victim ( _Victor Crowley, aged 27_ _, part-time accountant, no past offences_ ) Connor determined the crime was committed an hour after the previous one. Impossible, seeing as it was near Chandler Park, on the other side of Detroit. There had to be more than one perpetrator. Similar MO suggested they talked about how to kill their victims. One glaring difference between the two crime scenes was that this time there was only one victim.

"Detective Reed-"

"Shut up, I’m trying to think."

Connor bit his tongue so hard his analysers picked up the serial number from his thirium. He was tired, nearly mad with worry over Hank and irritated from prolonged exposure to Reed. He was _not_ in a good place right now.

All of a sudden the buzzing in his head came back with a vengeance. It hit him so hard his vision shorted out for a few seconds. Connor doubled over with a groan.

"Go the fuck home, you’ll only slow me down."

Connor looked up at Gavin from his hunched position. The Detective’s words were harsh but a flicker of _something_ in his eyes softened the blow. Connor realised with a start that Gavin might be worried.

"…got it." With a flash of the LED Connor called a cab. He didn’t put his home address in the GPS though, making the vehicle drive to 115 Michigan Drive instead. The buzzing in his head is something Connor learned to associate with Hank.

He had a bad feeling about this.

***

The ride was uneventful. Connor half expected Captain Fowler to call him about another crime scene but, fortunately, nothing like that happened. He made it to Hank’s place and exited the cab.

Full of nerves Connor knocked on Hank's door and waited. And waited. And waited some more. There was no answer. Connor knew that androids were incapable of sweating but he could swear there was a drop sliding down his neck and back. He raised a fist to knock once more, this time with slightly more force, and the doors swung open with an ominous creak.

"Hank?" Connor called but there was no sound. There weren't explosions going off on TV from whatever action movie Hank was watching. There was no barking either, Sumo didn't come bounding through the door to greet him.

Connor shivered with unease, then scolded himself for it right after. _"I'm sure Hank just took Sumo on a walk. Everything is fine,"_  he thought, somewhat unconvincingly.

Intending to wait for the Lieutenant, Connor made his way to the living room. The house was pitch black, unnaturally so, as if someone painted the windows over with black paint and then covered them with black tarp for good measure. He struggled to adjust his vision, the world going darker the more he tried.

Then, suddenly, the lights in the kitchen flickered on, blinding him momentarily. As soon as he could see though...

"Hank!" Connor ran towards the prone figure on the floor, slipping on a puddle of blood and landing painfully on his knees. The pain was insignificant though. His entire world blurred, tilted on its axis and burst into flames simultaneously. He didn't have to scan Hank to know that no amount of first aid will help.

"No..." he cupped the man's cheeks in his hands as if they were made out of butterfly wings. Tears made miniature waterfalls on his own cheeks, dripping on a chest that will never raise with a drawn breath ever again.

"It can't be..." Connor gently placed his forehead against Hank's. He could feel the bullet hole like this but somehow it made everything seem even less real.

"Please..." he stared into unseeing blues, willing the spark of life to return to them. Hoping beyond hope that the past 24 hours would suddenly reverse, that it all would turn out to have been a nightmare.

It was inconsequential that androids weren't capable of dreaming.

Connor barely registered a low growl and clacking of claws on the linoleum floor. He turned his head and through tears saw a blurry lump of brown fur stalking towards him.

"...Sumo?"

Teeth flashed and Connor didn't react in time to get out of the dog's way. Sumo went straight for his neck, sinking his teeth in and tearing out his vocal processor.

"...!" He couldn't even scream in pain, watching in horror as the creature he loves the most in the world crunches one of his components to bits. Trying to slowly reach out to Sumo only resulted in two of his fingers being bit off.

Connor weakly crawled away on his hands and knees but the dog pounced on him, tearing into his shoulder blade. His vision flickered violently, a feeling of disappointment flooding his systems. Not his disappointment though. It felt as if there was another presence inside of him.

A timer showed up on his HUD. In the last few moments that were left, Connor reached out his mangled hand towards Hank's stiff one. Before he could connect their fingers, however, a heavy boot stomped on his wrist, almost severing it right off. Connor barely managed to look up, staring right into a pair of eyes the colour of-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry


End file.
